don't have to go
by GingerGleek
Summary: Puckleberry oneshot. Rated T to be safe. / I'm sick of people tolerating me when I'm useful, and throwing me to the curb when I'm not. I'm sick of not having any friends.


_Disclaimer: I don't won Glee._

_A/N: Started writing this a while ago, but just rediscovered it and finished it about ten minutes ago. On the short side, but I decided to post it separately instead of with my drabbles. Just some Puckleberry, because they're my OTP. Not just fluff, I swear ... but maybe a little bit at the end (;._

_I hope you enjoy!_

_-0-0-_

"You don't have to go, you know."

The words startle her, even as quietly as they're spoken. Not only was she under the impression that she was alone, she also never figured that _Noah Puckerman_ of all people would try to persuade her to stay. (Not that she expected anyone to try to persuade here, really; perhaps Kurt of Mercedes or Mr. Schue in the name of Glee, but not otherwise. The thought that no one would really care if she left is one of the main reasons she felt so assured of her need to leave McKinley as soon as she possibly could.)

"Yeah, I do," she shoots back, stubbornly refusing to look up at him from her locker, where she's grabbing all of her things and neatly packing them away in her bag. Even without lifting her gaze, though, she's acutely aware of his presence; the way he leans sideways against the locker next to hers, the way his arms cross over his chest as he looks down at his shoes.

"Why?"

It's a simple question … just one word, when it comes down to it. But it fills her with a burning, churning feeling in the bottom of her gut that leaves her blinking her eyes furiously to keep angry tears at bay. She toys with the idea of not answering him, but – for some unknown reason – decides to. To try, at least; she's not sure how good she'll be at explaining it in words. "Because I'm sick of this place," she bites out fiercely, going for the easy, general statement first. "Because every day, as I walk down the hallway, constantly on the lookout for someone geared up to throw a slushie in my face or corner me in the bathroom and flush my lipstick down the toilet, I can't help but wonder how much more I'll be able to take before I crack."

She pauses for a moment, debating with herself before the rest comes out in a rush

"Because I'm sick of being toyed with time and time again by Finn Hudson, only to have him go running back to the blonde princess, after everything she's put him through; because I'm sick of people _tolerating_ me when I'm useful, and throwing me to the curb when I'm not; because I'm sick of not having any friends. Because I'm sick of nothing I'm doing ever making a difference!"

_Been waiting to get all that out for a while now, I bet_, Puck thinks to himself, almost shocked by her outburst … yet, at the same time, not. He's as stubborn as she is, though, and he just gives her a little nod in acknowledgement of everything she's said. Because she's right, and its crap, all of it; and it's amazing that she's been able to tolerate it all up until now.

"Still doesn't mean you have to go," he argues.

_God, what an infuriating …_ Now she's the world in taking on a reddish tinge in her vision, and she has to close her eyes and count to ten to get everything back into focus; she's been able to reign herself in for years now, though, and it isn't so hard really. She's had lots of practice.

"Give me one good reason to stay," she scoffs through gritted teeth, shoving one last book into her bag.

She thinks she has him there; and for a moment, she does. But then a small smile (yes, smile; not smirk) pops onto his face, and she's confused. Because she's supposed to have the upper hand after that last comment of hers, not him.

"Okay."

_Still completely infuriating_, she thinks. A beat of silence, and then:

"Well? Get on with it. Why shouldn't I leave?"

_Still impatient, as always_, he acknowledged in his mind. This time he does smirk. But it fades, and he swallows thickly, forcing the words past the lump in his throat.

"Because I don't want you to leave."

(And just to let it be known, he's still one badass mother fucker; just saying … Even if he's getting all mushy and crap, basically admitting that he cares for Berry. But whatever; she's totally smoking, especially in those skirts of hers and those knee socks. And lately she hasn't even made his ears start bleeding or anything, and she's actually kind of awesome when she's chill. Which is, like, never … but she isn't so bad when she's batshit crazy, either.)

That definitely wasn't what she was expecting him to say; she's left gaping at him, opening and closing her mouth like a fish out of water. He slams her locker door shut, advancing and pressing her up against the cool metal.

"Don't go," he pleads a little too earnestly, his gaze fierce and cutting, "please."

She should say no … tell him to take his newfound feelings and stick it, because she can't stand this place and she needs to get away. But his body is pressed up against hers, and she thinks that maybe he gave her the only reason that's capable of making her stay.

So she nods, closing her eyes and his lips press against hers insistently.

No harm in sticking a little while, right? And seeing where this goes …

_-0-0-_

_Happy almost Thanksgiving, everyone! (Well, the Canadian one, anyways.)_

_Please review!_


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